A British Wizard in America
by subtle.obvious.brilliant
Summary: Dumbledore had the bright idea to send away his students to American high schools.... American MUGGLE high schools. Can the British witches and wizards last the semester?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fanfiction, and I'm only gonna keep writing it if you think it's worth it, so _please _tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: My initials are JR! But unfortunately my middle name begins with an E… so no, I don't own Harry Potter.

**Chapter 1:**

"Potter, Harry."

Harry raised a hand, "Here." He was aware of the odd looks her was getting, but he knew it wasn't because of his scar this time. At least, it wasn't because of the story behind his scar, it was just the fact the scar existed at all.

That summer the 6th and 7th years' letters from Hogwarts had announced a sort of study abroad program… they could choose to spend the first semester of the new term at a muggle high school. Of course Hermione had jumped at the chance, and Harry and Ron had signed up to stop her from badgering them. The three had been placed in the same school – St. Andrews Prepatory School – and they were staying with an elderly witch and wizard from the area. The three friends were not the only students interested in the program, and more than 30 had put their names down. Dumbledore had thought it unwise to send so many "exchange" students to the same school, so the Hogwarts students had been sent to a variety of American high schools (to experience a different country as well as a muggle school).

As Harry sat in his first period English class, he started to realize just how much he was giving up by attending a muggle school; Defense Against the Dark Arts, the Marauder's Map (he could still use it, it just didn't do him any good), the kitchens, and, worst of all, quidditch. Harry had almost broken his wand when he received a letter from Professor McGonagall, asking him to hand his captain's badge to Ginny.

A soft tap on his shoulder jerked him from his reverie and he turned around in his chair, "Need something?"

The prettiest girl he had ever seen was looking at him, mouth quirked in a tiny smile, blue eyes sparkling, "Yes. My bag is caught around your chair." She motioned to a large purse on the ground; his chair leg was planted through one of the straps.

Harry blushed before shifting his weight to bring the chair leg off the ground, "Sorry… sorry, I don't know your name."

"Maybe if you hadn't of been daydreaming during role you would know it."

"Mr. Potter. You may have been allowed to have side conversations in your previous school, but I can assure you that it will not be tolerated in my classroom." Mrs. Montgomery, a tall severe woman who vaguely resembled Professor McGonagall, looked at him sternly. "If I have to remind you again, I will send you to the Principal's office. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded mutely, mortified. He could hear the girl behind him laughing softly, but he didn't turn around, for fear of attracting Mrs. Montgomery's wrath a second time.

"Now that everyone is ready for class, we'll begin. My name is Mrs. Montgomery, which you should know by now. I won't tolerate any slacking in my class, but if you do the work well, you'll be fine. Cheating is unacceptable, and you will receive a zero in the class. Lateness is also unacceptable, in class and on assignments. This year we'll read Beowulf, Julius Caesar, Gawain and the Green Knight, as well as short stories by such authors as Edgar Allen Poe, Flannery O'Connor, and Jack London. You will need a black binder with paper and dividers. Please get out whatever it is you will take notes with…"

She continued talking, but Harry had zoned out; without Hermione to chide him or Ron to talk to, he was having a hard time concentrating on anything for more than two minutes. He wondered briefly how he was going to pass any of his classes if he couldn't pay attention, but then his thoughts shifted again, and he spent the rest of class imagining what the start-of-term feast at Hogwarts had been like.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped for the second time in an hour; Mrs. Montgomery was leaning over his desk, staring at him disapprovingly, "Yes, Mrs. Montgomery?"

Mr. Potter, if you are going to allow your attention to drift the entire year, we are going to have some problems. I understand that it's hard to transfer schools when you're a junior, but that does not mean you have the right to not pay attention. If your grades slip below a D, you will be put on probation, understand?"

"Yes Profes— I mean ma'am. I understand." Thinking she was done, Harry starting shoving his books in his bag, anxious to see Ron and Hermione, who were both in his next class.

"I'm glad to hear that. And Harry—"

He looked up quickly, "Yes?"

"Welcome to St. Andrews." Her smile was so quick Harry wasn't even sure he had seen it.

"Thank you." He finished packing up his stuff and hurried out the door, anxious to be away. Pulling the map the front desk receptionist had given him; he searched for his next class, rotating the paper a few times. After a few minutes, he gave up; he had no clue where he was. Cursing silently he began chose a random hallway and began walking, hoping he would come across someone who could help him.

"Are you Harry Potter?" The speaker, a sandy-haired boy wearing a letter jacket, stuck out his hand, "Sean Fairway. I'm supposed to be taking you to back to advanced chemistry."

"Yeah, thanks," he shook Sean's hand.

Harry had been going in exactly the wrong direction, according to Sean he had been heading for the seniors' hallway, a very bad idea. "The seniors don't like underclassmen in their area, and they're not happy when they're irritated. It's better if you just stay away from that part of the building."

Storing this information in the back of his mind, Harry pushed open the door to the chemistry lab. The teacher, an enormous man with a long mustache, stood from he was bent over a student's desk, "Ah. Thank you, Mr. Fairway. Mr. Potter, how wonderful it is to finally see you."

"Sorry, sir, I couldn't figure out the map."

"Of course! First day is always overwhelming. Well, please grab a questionnaire off of my desk, find a seat, and fill it out." He turned back to the blond boy, and began talking quietly.

Harry picked up the questionnaire and scanned the room, looking for Ron and Hermione. He found them sitting at a back table, motioning for him to join them. "Come on," Ron mouthed. Relief flooded Harry as he pulled out a chair beside Hermione.

"I cannot believe you made us sign up for this, Hermione," Harry hissed.

"Hermione and I just had algebra… it was horrible."

"It was not horrible, Ronald. You just didn't pay attention."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what they were talking about, did I?" He turned to Harry, "Of course Hermione knew all the answers to the questions. I don't know how she knew any of it though; it didn't look anything like her arithmancy."

"Oh Ronald. You don't think I stopped studying stuff like math and history just because I got into Hogwarts do you? I took summer classes."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and Hermione blushed, "My parents wanted me to have options when I finished Hogwarts, even in the muggle world. Close you mouth, Ron; you look like an idiot."

"You did school during the summer? Why?"

But before Hermione could defend herself, their teacher interrupted, "Hello everybody. My name is Mr. Stanton, and I'll be your advanced chemistry teacher. I hope everyone enjoys this class this year. Once you have finished your questionnaire, please return it. Then you need to find a lab partner, and by that I

mean one other person."

Harry's stomach started to churn; they had to pick _partners_, and there were three of them. Hermione and Ron looked at him, concerned. "Are you okay, mate? You look like you're going to throw up slugs."

"He said we have to pick partners. As in two people. And you're going to work together, aren't you?"

His friends looked at each and shook their heads. "We'd probably kill each other by the end of the semester" said Hermione. "No, you're working with Ron, I'm working with David." She pointed to the blond boy Mr. Stanton had been talking to when Harry had come in. "Everyone says he's the best in the year."

Ron rolled his eyes, "And of course she has to work with the smartest person here; I'm not smart enough for her."

"Don't complain, Ron. You wanted to work with Harry anyway. I believe your exact words were 'Hope I don't have to work with some random person.'"

"Glad we got that cleared up then," Harry inserted, hoping to forestall any bickering. "Let's finish filling out the questions."

Maybe ten seconds passed before Ron looked up from his questionnaire, with a very confused look on his face, "Did he say _advanced _chemistry?"

"Wow, Ron. That has got to be the most delayed response ever. But yes, he did say advanced, why?"

Now Harry looked a little worried, "Um, Hermione? We've never done the before, so how can we be advanced?"

"That's what you two are worried about? It's really no big deal. Dumbledore decided that since chemistry is a lot like potions, we would all be fine in advanced."

"But in potions we know what all the ingredients are… Harry and I won't know any of the chemistry ingredients."

Hermione laughed at the red-head, "No one knows what the ingredients are, Ron. Everything is labeled with letters because the real names are too complicated and have to many consonants thrown together."

Harry and Ron only looked slightly convinced with Hermione's explanation, but they chose to let it go.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Stanton clapped his meaty hands together, and everybody looked up, "Students. You should have finished your questionnaires by now; it's been 45 minutes. I'll take them now, and you need to sit by your lab partner."

Hermione stood up and Ron and Harry dropped their questionnaires into her outstretched hand; on her way to talk to David she set them on Mr. Stanton's desk.

As the two boys heard Hermione start chatting to the blond boy, Ron slumped in his chair, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "Bloody hell, Harry; this is _hard_. And I thought being a muggle was easier than being a wizard. I just came from world history, and they have to learn the history of the entire world! And the professor was even more boring than Binns, if that's possible." He sighed again.

"Teacher," murmured Harry, quietly.

"Huh?"

"They're called teachers, not professors. In case you were wondering."

Ron looked him in disbelief. "Are you actually enjoying this?" When Harry shrugged slightly Ron's eyes bugged out further. "You're bloody mad!"

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate language in my class. If you need to leave the class to control yourselves, please, be my guest, but there will be no cursing." He looked each boy in the eyes. It was probably just Ron's imagination that Mr. Stanton took longer on him. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled.

After Mr. Stanton moved onto the next group (two girls who were giggling a little too much to be laughing at chemistry), the boys caught Hermione glaring at them from her place beside the blonde boy.

"Harry," Ron started, his voice low enough not to attract their teacher's attention once again, "remind me again why we signed up for this?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

A/N: I'm so sorry for the REALLY long delay. School has been super busy and lacrosse is taking up most of my time. Reviews are appreciated! And yes, one of the phrases in here is from the 4th Harry Potter movie.

**Chapter 2:**

The lunch lady flipped her spoon over Ron's tray and a pile of pasta fell onto his plate. "Sauce?" she asked, hand hovering over the red sauce.

Ron looked at the sauce a little doubtfully, "Um… no thanks." He sort of smiled at her, not sure if it was ok to decline the sauce. The lady gazed at him in disbelief, before sinking her spoon once more into the pasta and turning her attention to the next person in line.

Stopping at the salad bar for a bowl of salad, Ron let out a long breath. He had had to remind himself every couple minutes to breathe; everything was so different here than at Hogwarts. In his math class, all of the students had pulled out these _things_, and when he had asked the boy beside him what they were, the boy had looked at him as if he were a blast-ended skrewt. Actually, he had been getting weird looks all day; eventually he started to ignore them. He briefly wondered if Harry and Hermione were faring any better.

When he had finished dousing his salad in dressing, he picked up his tray and followed the line of students to the exit of the room. He started to worry when he saw the person beside him pull out a little plastic card with a barcode on it, but when he did get to the register, the woman (looking just as sour as the pasta lady) asked him for his name and keyed it into the computer.

Letting out yet another breath, Ron scanned the lunchroom, looking for either Harry or Hermione. His searching was getting increasingly more frantic as students kept brushing by him and he still had not found either of his friends.

Finally, off to his right, he heard the most beautiful word in the English language, "Ron!" Hermione was standing up at a table, waving at him, with a slightly bemused expression on her face. Ron thanked anyone who happened to be listening to his thoughts at that moment and walked towards Hermione.

Harry was sitting beside her, talking to a laughing girl with dark hair, but the rest of the people sitting at the table were complete strangers— oh, wait, no; Ron recognized the sandy-haired boy sitting across from Harry… Sean something-or-other.

Dropping into the empty chair across from Harry, Ron set his tray in front of him and began eating. The conversation flowed around him, but he felt no compulsion to join in.

"So Harry, do you play any sports? Soccer or something?" Curious as to how Harry would answer the question (he was a _fairly _good quidditch player after all), Ron looked up from his pasta, a string still hanging out of his mouth.

"Errm... no, actually. I'm not coordinated enough." Ron snorted. Harry's face remained smooth and slightly apologetic as he sharply kicked Ron under the table.

"Oh, that's too bad. I would've thought you played sports."

Harry shrugged, "Nope. Sports really aren't my thing."

Ron was about to ask Harry what exactly was "his thing," when he crashed onto the ground; a brightly colored _something _had hurled itself into the seat next to him, missed, and forced him out of his chair and to the floor.

"Wha- fu- Wh- he-…" His lack of breathe inhibited questions and swearing, but his flapping hand motions were enough to get the point across.

Two small hands, one tipped with lime green fingernails and the other with electric blue, reached down and hauled him to his feet. "Good Night. You are not a very stable person." She balled her fists and rested them on her hips, "And you really should know better than to sit there."

Ron mouthed wordlessly, very confused by this tiny, bright, loud girl. She had a green-streaked messy blond ponytail and was dressed in skinny jeans and layered polos, green and blue, and was wearing bright purple flats. She couldn't have been much taller than 5'2". And she had just single-handedly pulled Ron off the ground.

The dark-haired girl Harry had been talking to turned around and gazed calmly at the blond, "Give him a break Kalyn. He's an exchange student and it's his first day. Stop scaring him."

Kalyn waited until the girl had twisted back around to make a face at her. Apparently satisfied, she bent down to grab a wide purple headband, which she placed back in her hair. Sitting down as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Kalyn looked expectantly at Ron with large brown eyes, waiting for him to sit down too.

Gingerly sitting back down on his chair, Ron held his breath, waiting for something to happen- an explosion or something. Kalyn seemed to have that vibe. He didn't have long to wait.

"So you're new here? An exchange student? That's so cool. I've always wanted to be an exchange student, but I don't really know where I'd go since I only speak English. I dropped French last year because I absolutely sucked at it. My college counselor keeps telling me I should have continued with a language by why would I want to? I like science mostly- biology and that sort of thing. Not so great at English, but oh well. I'm planning on being a pediatrician because I like working kids and kids like me too. I babysit a lot. That's how I make most of my money actually because I don't have a real job. I worked at High Point Coffee for a while but I had trouble remembering what goes into what drink so I just quit. By the way my name is Kalyn. I don't think I've told you that yet, although you probably already knew because that's what Ava called me and generally you address people by their names. What's yours?"

Ron's blue eyes were wide with shock; he had never heard someone talk so much in that short of time. Not even when Hermione was quizzing herself on the properties of a complicated potion before exams. And how could someone be that perky? Was it possible to have that much positive energy?

"Umm. I, uh, I'm… Ron."

Kalyn rested her arms on the table and leaned forward slightly, as if memorizing his every word. "Wow," she exhaled, "I've never heard someone talk that slow."

Ron noticed her breath smelled like cinnamon, and he wasn't surprised. "I think you just talk abnormally fast. I caught like half of what you said, maybe."

Nodding wisely she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms loosely over her chest, "I've been told that."

Ron was saved having to respond to Kalyn by the bell, and he hurried to grab his tray. Kalyn watched calmly as he tried to disentangle his long legs from between the table's legs, only a tiny smile betraying her amusement.

Ron slid down into his seat and dropped his head onto the desk, wincing slightly. Thank Merlin it was the last class of the day; he only had to make it through 50 more minutes before it was over. Hermione was sitting in front of him, busily scribbling something in a blue notebook. To his right he could hear Harry mumbling something to himself about numbers and letters, but he blocked it out, too tired to think. Someone dropped into the seat next to him with a loud sigh and he rotated his head just enough to see a pair of purple flats. He groaned inwardly. Time to interrupt Harry.

"Hey, Harry." He nudged his friend with his sneaker, trying to break his concentration.

"Huh? Wha?" His black hair was more wild than normal and there was a harried look in his green eyes.

"Want to play some chess tonight?"

"Wizard chess or muggle?" He asked, careful to keep his voice low.

"Wizard of course. What's the fun in muggle chess?" He too kept his voice down, but for an entirely different reason; Hermione had very good ears.

Her ears were apparently better than Ron had given her credit for, because her head whipped around his final words. "Don't forget you have homework Ron, and you're actually going to have to do it at night. We don't have as many free periods here."

"You mean _you _don't have as many free periods. Harry and I've got the same amount as we did at Hogwarts. And give it a rest on the homework; it's only the first night."

She narrowed her eyes, "Don't tell me to give it a rest. And I'm not just talking about this work. You know Dumbledore wants us to keep up with our normal classes as well; he sent packages for all of us with assignments for potions, transfiguration, charms, defense against the dark arts, herbology, and history of magic."

This was news to the two boys, who looked at her in amazement. "Dumbledore's sent us extra work? He's mad."

"Harry. You can't possibly expect to be at the same level as everybody else next term if you don't keep practicing. Honestly, you should have guessed he would do something like this."

Ron mumbled a few choice words and kicked the leg of his chair, but was saved Hermione's lecture about language by a loud clap.

Their teacher had walked to the front of the room during their whispered conversation and was know resting with his leg on the desk, his crossed arms propped up on his knee. "Most of you probably signed up for this class without knowing exactly what it was, right? Kind of a filler for your schedule?" A few nervous laughs answered his questions and he smiled. "You'll probably find it a relief that we're not going to have much homework and you'll hardly ever have to write any assignments. – only Hermione's shoulders drooped – In this class we're going to watch movies."

A redhead near the front raised her hand and he pointed at her, "Are you serious? We're going to watch movies? That's it?"

Ron leaned over towards Harry's desk and whispered, "What's a movie?"

"Hard to explain. I'll show you back at the house." His lips were barely moving and his eyes kept flicking from Ron's face to over his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face.

Wondering what had Harry frustrated, Ron twisted around in his seat. Kalyn was sitting sideways in her chair, legs tucked up underneath her, smiling brightly. She flashed her teeth quickly at Ron before unfolding herself and sitting correctly in her chair.

Ron frowned. It wouldn't be catastrophic if she had heard his question about movies, but if she had heard anything from their conversation with Hermione about Hogwarts, it could be potentially problematic.


End file.
